48 GSCENE
CRAIG’S THOUGHTS
PIPE DOWN!
THEY’RE JUST WORDS TOM,
YOU HOMO F**K
BY CRAIG HANLON-SMITH
Standing at almost six feet tall aged 14, hiding at the front, middle or
even back of the class was all but impossible whilst imprisoned at
secondary school in the mid-1980s. However, as the English Language
teacher presented us with an article outlining the fate of a WW2
submarine named 'Gay Charger', I tried in vain to crawl under my desk
in an eternal search for a biro or at least to present an external air of
cool disinterest in the subject as the rest of the class sniggered, rocked
their desks and made 'bumming noises', or chewed up a page from their
exercise book and spat it out onto the ceiling. It was a progressive
environment.
As we manoeuvred our way through the lesson straits demonstrating
various degrees of teenage disaffection, I began to prepare myself for
and accept the inevitability of the next two weeks. Following an
extended homework project on the 'Gay Charger' article, submarine and
torpedo references were plentiful as classmates and others besides
would find endless hilarity in multiple interpretations of both terms.
The queue into the sports hall on games day would hysterically shift so
that I would not be able to 'charge' my male comrades from behind.
Students from other classes I barely knew the names of, would ask the
dinner ladies if they would be 'gay-charging me extra' for my gay chips
and gravy. And on one particular day I was 'gay charged' however much
money I had in my pocket by a group of boys who decided that if I
wanted to be allowed home, there was an exit toll fee due
immediately; and whilst crossing the street I tried in vain to ignore
their references to my father’s torpedo performing irreparable damage
upon my teenage loading bay. Kids are often horrid.
The teacher attempted to intervene at one mid-way assessment point
by explaining to the class that 'gay' didn't mean then what it does
today and there was not to be an assumed connection with our stories
on 'the gay charger' and 'gays'. Helpful. And then finally I was offered
some respite from the submarine anecdotes as thankfully over the
horizon AIDS appeared to distract one and all, but it would not be too
long before I found myself longing for the references to the lost
wartime sailors and their weaponry as the good old days.
Being gay in the mid-1980s held little benefit. The family television
was regularly turned off at the appearance of Jimmy Somerville (Boy
George was fine because at that point he was still a lady), our
flamboyant gender bending superstars of the 1970s reappeared in greysuits, married (to girls), and singing songs about women with Russian
names or oriental features.
And a local school drama teacher was somewhat publicly trialled and
then jailed for an